Tricky Roots
by RubyRedCase
Summary: Prompt: Remove your hand or I will rip off your arm and beat you to death with it. Stiles got sick of waiting. So he decided to do something instead.


It was turning out to be a long ass night.

The manacles were digging into his wrists, and everytime he tried to shift, the chains were so damn loud. The rest of the pack were tied up in similar fashions, each to their own tree. Only difference being the werewolves had wolfsbane infused metal which burned and itched their skin where it touched. Stiles watched as the younger wolves squirmed, all their wounds already healed. Isaac was the only bitten wolves that just sat and took the discomfort the manacle brought him. He had too much practice just taking pain as it was dealt. Stiles hated that he was taking even more just because Scott didn't listen to him or Peter. Said True Alpha was looking betrayed at the wannabe leader of the hunters, half shifted and confused as he tried to get the attention of the leader again. He was constantly moving, arms straining as he tried to get to the humans of the pack who had been chained up on the side of the clearing. Lydia was sat as if she was sat at a runway show. She had managed to arrange her dress around her so she just looked as though she was sat waiting for someone to bring her a picnic if not for the chains attached the manacles around her wrists and cut on her forehead. Allison was chained to the tree next to her, and was in as close to a crouch as she could, chained as tightly as she was. Her weapons had been striped from her, dumped in a pile just out of her reach, taunting her. She wasn't shy about showing how coldly furious at these damn interlopers encroaching on her territory, broadcasting it with every interaction she had with the amateurs that had somehow caught the drop on her. Her bloody nose helped keep deter the hunter from straying into her reach. Erica and Boyd were half shifted and growling and snarling, yanking at the chains that kept them separated, not caring they were causing their wrists to bleed the more they yanked. After deserting the pack, almost dying and coming back, they were hopelessly attached to each other. It was kind of sickening. And completely useless as showcased here, because they lost it when they were kept from each other. Peter was being his snarky self, somehow being an asshole and kind at the same time, keeping the hunters focused on him and Derek as they were the farthest away from the humans. Even Stiles had heard the lewd comments two of the members had made about "having a Banshee and Hunter together" and wasn't the only one who had a low burning anger in the bottom of his stomach at the thought of them touching the girls.

And Stiles… Stiles was getting sick of negotiations always ending up this way. He was sick of Scott not listening to him, True Alpha or not. He was sick of his family getting beat up and hurt, because his idiot childhood friend had morals no one else could understand, morals that had no structure other than 'what Scott thought was the right thing to do at that time'.

And the stupid group of hunters that had captured them were definitely amateur! He had named them all in his head as they kept trying to taunt the pack into giving them information about the Nemeton and he had gotten sick of calling them Stupid Head 1 and Stupid Head 2 after 10 minutes of just sat watching them flaunt their 'excellent catch' and useless interrogation techniques. Pervert and Sicko were the ones who were leering at the girls. Hothead was the one Peter was riling up wonderfully, Idiot was the wanna-be leader of the over emotional idiots with guns and was trying to calm down Hothead, with the help of Dumbo, who had absolutely huge ears.

He turned his attention back to the tree his chain was hooked up to. It was a deep rooted Old One. Making sure their Baddies of the Week were properly distracted dealing with the annoying zombie wolf and his nephews eyebrows of doom over the other side of the clearing, he sunk his nails deep into the bark behind him. He felt it howl, the sensation of it crawling under his skin, the Old tree screaming at the new scars were dug into its body. But after a moment he felt it croon, the wood almost purring under his fingertips. Glancing over at Hothead, seeing him almost at blows with Peter, he smirked lightly and dove deep inside to the fire that he kept banked at the behest of his Alpha. Fanning the heat-fire inside slightly, he sent it burning through his veins down into the tree, hearing it sing back as a tiny sprout grew from the cuts his nails carved into the wizened bark. Feeling the baby shoot grow up along his fingers, he directed it to the metal connecting the chains. From the song the wood was singing at the back of his mind, he could tell it was wrapping around the metal, getting stronger and tougher with each passing second. Stiles kept an eye on the five hunters in the clearing. Idiot and Dumbo were trying to hold back Hothead from pistol whipping the smirk off Peter's face whilst Derek was making cutting comments at the two perverts. Stiles could relate all those sentiments. He frequently had to stop the pack from attacking Peter and sometimes they had to stop him from hitting Peter. Derek wonderfully hurtful comebacks were what made bickering with him so fun. Seeing them directed at people who reminded him of Kate, well. It was a masterpiece.

Pervert and Sicko were getting more crude with what they were saying, trying to crack Derek into letting something important slip. They had strayed near the girls, who were on the trees closer Stiles, but thankfully as they were getting more aggressive with the dark haired beta, they strayed closer to the growling man. Making them move away from Stiles and definitely not pay attention to what he was doing.

Big mistake.

With one last surge of heat, the small sproutling turned rock hard and snapped the metal chain connecting his cuffs. Rolling his shoulders to loosen then up, he was already standing before the hunters realised something was wrong.

As soon as they saw he was free, the hunters all scrambled for their guns. Lazily waving a hand, he felt the hum of the soil as it coiled around their feet, up their legs, dragging their guns out of their holsters, avoiding their frantic hands trying to grab them back, before, with a last whistle in the back of Stiles mind, it took the metal handheld machines and buried it under the ground.

"None of that now, thank you." Stiles said nonchalantly, turning slightly to pat the Old One in thanks. He saw the fire from inside him had already given the tree enough to heal the nail marks he had made.

Hearing a scuffle, he turned back and saw Sicko had grabbed Lydia and dragged her up, locking in his arms, one of Allison's knives to her throat. The unimpressed glare Lydia was giving the other hunters was trying to hide the fact she was terrified. If Stiles didn't know her that well, he would have thought she wasn't scared shitless.

His eyes couldn't help but flash glowing amber when he saw the rest of the idiot group had decided to grab their wolfsbane coated knives from their "hidden" sheaths and were holding them to his wolves throats. Allison had managed to clamber to her feet, her hands still bound behind her. Pervert was stood close, but couldn't get any closer without being incapacitated by her long legs.

Stiles sighed. "You know, Scott really wanted to believe you would leave us alone," he said as he walked to the middle of the clearing, in the middle of all the hunters. He really hoped Scott would keep his damn mouth shut, just this once. He didn't how long his fire would hold before it puffed out and he didn't want to waste any of it on controlling what the Alpha would say. "I personally told him to kill your idiotic asses, cause I knew- _I knew_ -you would come back and try and kill us. And what do you know!" Stiles suddenly flung his arms out, his manacles clattering loudly with the movement. Stiles slowly lowered them, the clanking sounding even louder as the hunters were stood frozen staring at the one pack member they didn't think they had to worry about.

Idiot, who was currently holding a knife to the throat of an unimpressed Peter, spoke up, his voice shaking. "S-stop there or we'll kill them." Peter scoffed and then hissed as the knife dug further into his neck. A single line of blood fell down the curve of his neck.

All humor left Stiles face. He turned his head to look at Idiot, who gulped at the cold fire in the supposedly humans eyes. "You won't touch another hair on their heads."

Sicko decided to join in. "Oh yeah?!" He taunted, dragging Lydia closer by her hair, perversely sniffing and licking a line up her neck. Lydia couldn't help whimpering as her hair was pulled harshly as she tried to cringe away from the violation. "What are you going to do about it?"

Suddenly, the ground shook under their feet. Sicko let out a yell, panicked by the sudden shift of the ground. Stiles glowing eyes focused solely on Sicko. He didn't pay attention to his surroundings, but he heard the startled shouts as the Old One's roots shot out the clearings floor.

"Stil-!" Whatever Scott was about to shout was cut off by a force clamping his mouth shut. He flashed his Alpha eyes in anger at being shut up, but Stiles really wasn't in the mood to pay attention to his fucking moral shit today. Too much has hurt his pack already.

"You'd better remove your hand or I will rip your arm off and beat you to death with it," Stiles promised Sicko darkly, taking a step closer to him. He ignored the screams of the other hunters as they were bound in strong roots, unable to escape from being dragged along the rocks on the dirt floor to the middle of the clearing.

Sicko's eyes were wide with terror, staring at the mess of tree roots, dirt, rocks and his bound partners. He turned back to the blazing amber eyes making their way towards them. He couldn't move his hands, he was frozen. _What the fuck was going on?!_

When Stiles was just a step away and the dirt was starting to settle around them, he finally released the banshee, uncaring as she fell ungracefully to the floor, hands still bound behind her back. Two roots shot out of the ground, grabbing his ankles and dragged him to the centre, uncaring as he screamed and struggled.

Turning back to his attention back to the pack, he sent a burst of too much power from inside him, too tired to care about growing sproutlings to break the chains. He was just so tired already and he couldn't be bothered to regulate how much of the fire-spark-whatever he used to break their chains. The manacles broke around his friends wrists, his own falling to the floor by his feet like an afterthought. He suddenly listed sideways. Peter was at his side and caught him just as he was about to fall over.

"Looks like the Spark had enough of waiting," Peter commented wryly, supporting Stiles as he tried to gain enough strength to go deal with the hunters.

"No one else was going to do anything," Stiles muttered darkly, ignoring how Scott flinched in the corner of his eyes. Using Peter as a crutch as he regained some feeling in his legs, letting the older wolf hold his weight without trouble, he looked around at his pack. Lydia was once again standing proudly, but he saw how she was as far away as she could get from the man who had said unspeakable things even though he was tied up. Allison was stood beside her, blocking the hunter's from Lydia's sight, in the process of strapping her weapons back into their rightful places on her body. Erica and Boyd had attached themselves back together, slightly apart from the pack still. Derek was right beside them, a steady comforting presence, because he still couldn't shake the responsibility of being the one who turned Turned them. Scott was hovering close, looking like he was about to reprimand Stiles before his comment. He really couldn't be bothered to deal with that today. Seeping some energy from the zombie wolf, a practice he had started doing since he had started learning how to use the fire within him, he stood up straight again. His pack were safe. Now to deal with the interlopers.

He walked over to the hunters. Suddenly scrunching up his nose in disgust, he smelt the unmistakable scent of urine. One of the hunters had pissed themselves with fear at him just walking closer. "Gross," he couldn't help but comment. "Okay, whatever. You've managed to piss me off, threaten Lydia, the goddess that she is, hurt Peter and royally fuck up on Hunter protocol." Looking at their terrified face, he paused. "You made this my problem. Don't get all hissy about how I deal with you fucking idiots."

Turning to see Allison walking over to his side, he took one look at her face and gave the metaphorical floor to her, a silent partner at her back. "Under the 1879 code of _Le Association des Chasseurs_ , you have broken no less than 12 laws. As head of the Argent hunter clan, I will be taking your sorry asses into custody to await trial over the attempted rape of a registered Banshee, kidnapping of an established Pack, assassination of an established Pack and territory violation of an established Hunter clan." A sharp grin crossed her face, a harsh laugh forced out as she looked at the terrified faces of men who knew they fucked up. "And you can bet I'm going to ask for you god forsaken lives."

A sharp nod at Stiles, Allison stepped away to call the Council on her satellite phone. Stiles knew that a rep would be here soon to take the idiot group away. Turning back to Lydia, he saw her give him a small nod, before she hooked her arm into Isaacs, a silent command that he lead her back to the her house. If Stiles knew her, and he did, he would guess she wanted to shower and make the wolf cuddle as she forced him to watch the notebook. Their friendship was an odd one, but it worked. Fashion was a good bonding instrument incidentally. And with Lydia's parents AWOL most of the time, he slept over at her place most nights. Once Lydia had found out what had been done to him by his father and how smart he was, she took him in. Most of the pack had given up trying to figure out how they worked, but if Isaacs nightmares stopped and Lydia softened towards everyone else, they really didn't care to understand how he just _slept_ in her room and nothing more.

Derek was herding the two traumatised betas back to his apartment, where they had been living. Puppy piles were a thing, one bed fits all apparently. They were all helping each other work through their pasts and it had the added benefit of solidifying into strong pack bonds.

Scott had trailed after Allison, as the Alpha of the established Pack, he had to stay with the Head of the established Hunter clan to greet the rep. Plus, Stiles was the last person he wanted to deal with right then, not before he had figured out what to say. He kept fucking up with Stiles lately, not taking him seriously. He needed time to think.

That left Peter and Stiles, the younger of them both already walking into the dead of the forest, the complete opposite way of the rest of the pack. Peter slinked into the shadows behind him, easily catching up. Sliding an arm around the Sparks waist, he casually remarked as if they were on a sunny afternoon stroll. "Might I join you?"

Stiles chuckled lowly, falling easily into the older man's grasp. He was still so tired. He appreciated the familiar warmth at his side. "Please. I have to-Nemeton. I need to see. Tonight. Power. Too much." His sentences were short and disjointed, but he trusted the older wolf to understand him.

"I thought as much, Spark," Peter said. "I just didn't want you to trip over those nasty roots. They seem to pop up out of nowhere."

"Shut up, Zombie."

"Never, Spark."


End file.
